


blughbhlhhbl

by katrinawritesthings



Category: SHINee
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut, ish lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-10-21 01:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10674978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrinawritesthings/pseuds/katrinawritesthings
Summary: a mess of an ontae tbh lmaoTaemin hums again, a quiet little noise, and pushes Jinki’s pinky up to suck partway into his mouth as he flips a page or two in his dictionary. Jinki rubs his other hand over his side, slips his thumb just barely into the open fold of his shirt. He’s so… soft.tumblr





	blughbhlhhbl

For all the frowning Jinki does at his friends when they tease him for how young his boyfriend is, sometimes it really strikes Jinki how young Taemin is. Technically, he’s not; a week until he’s nineteen, two years under Jinki’s twenty-one. It just feels like he is, being fresh out of high school and all. The difference between “not a high school senior anymore” and “not a college freshman yet” is a weird three month period that Jonghyun and Kibum never shut up about like they didn’t latch onto Minho _while_ he was still in high school. Still, he picked up Taemin on a summer tour of the campus fair and square, complete with shitty pickup lines and a donut date and everything, and he respects Taemin’s boundaries enough for him to get reasonably huffy when his friends try to make him feel weird about it. **  
**

And also reasonably flustered when Taemin nibbles at his fingertips as they sit in his living room watching unsubbed anime.

It’s a common habit of his; trying to stop biting his own nails, he’d started picking up Jinki’s hands instead, pressing little kisses to his fingers, biting softly, wrapping his lips absentmindedly around the tips and sucking gently. Jinki is content to let him do it, usually. He’s not really one for blowjobs so it doesn’t exactly cause a boner to poke Taemin’s back where it’s pressed to Jinki’s front as they huddle in front of the couch. There’s something different about today, though, something in the way Taemin’s tongue flicks over the pads of his fingers, that makes him push Taemin’s hips further away and pull his shoulders back against his chest, so Taemin can rest against his collarbones and hopefully not think anything is suspicious.

Taemin hums at the movement, shifting to get comfortable again. His copper head doesn’t turn to ask what’s wrong, but it does, after a moment, turn to look for the remote. He finds it by Jinki’s knee and grabs it, pausing the anime and reaching to his other side for his Japanese dictionary. He doesn’t let go of Jinki’s wrist as he flips through the pages and searches for a word, sucking just a bit harder than usual on Jinki’s ring finger in concentration. Jinki peeps over his shoulder curiously. He thinks it’s fascinating how Taemin has taken classes and knows so much of another language when he doesn’t know more than _hello_ and _goodbye_ himself.

“Hrmm,” Taemin hums around his finger. He takes it out of his mouth and laces their fingers together instead, turning finally to pout at Jinki with round eyes. “Babe,” he says. “Is ‘despicable’ spelled like D-I or D-E?” He brings their hands up to nibble on Jinki’s knuckle, brows all furrowed under his soft bangs. “I _think_ that’s what she said, but I don’t….” He trails off with a sigh of hot breath against Jinki’s skin.

“Um,” Jinki says. He’s kind of been lost in thoughts of Taemin’s tongue for the passed ten minutes now. He’d been expecting Taemin’s flirty little smirk to be the first expression he saw tonight, not puffed cheeks and pleading eyes. Taemin is just wearing a loose pajama shirt, not even buttoned all the way, and the way he’s twisted in Jinki’s lap makes the fabric fall off of his shoulder and expose so much of his torso that Jinki can almost see his faint happy trail. His voice was light, too; not the exaggerated deepness he puts into it in public to cover the fact that it hasn’t dropped all the way yet. It’s natural. His hand feels small in Jinki’s, his _body_ small between Jinki’s legs. Jinki puts his free hand on Taemin’s waist because he has to t _ouch_ or else he’ll get even more lost. “D-E,” he says.

Taemin hums again, a quiet little noise, and pushes Jinki’s pinky up to suck partway into his mouth as he flips a page or two in his dictionary. Jinki rubs his other hand over his side, slips his thumb just barely into the open fold of his shirt. He’s so… soft. So small. So pretty. He follows the soft circle of Taemin’s lips around his finger, imagines those lips parted in a silent moan underneath him, sweaty bangs falling into his eyes, skin flushed all the way down to his chest as he gasps for breath--

“Mmm, okay,” Taemin says, snapping Jinki out of his thoughts with the snap of his dictionary. “Thanks.” He smiles at Jinki and wiggles back around in his lap. The movement makes his sleeve fall even more off of his left shoulder and Jinki sighs, resting his chin on it before he puts his lips there instead. Taemin is being cute and focusing on his learning right now. He doesn’t need Jinki trying to rub him up.

This time instead of pushing Taemin forward, he scoots himself backwards, just in case he zones out and pops a boner while Taemin is making out with his hand. He kind of just wants to nap, maybe doze off a little with with his honey in his arms until Taemin pokes him awake and pouts about being hungry. It’s not like he understands the anime anyway. Wrapping his free arm around Taemin’s waist and slipping his fingers into his open shirt as casually as possible, he lets his eyelids droop, ready to close whenever they feel like it.

It’s after another five or so minutes of him rubbing his thumb over the row of ribs he can feel under Taemin’s skin to distract himself from the way Taemin is biting at the second knuckle of his pointer finger that Taemin reaches for the remote again. He doesn’t turn around all the way, opting instead to angle his head enough to nose against Jinki’s cheek, keeping the tip of his finger between his lips.

“Hey, Jinki,” he murmurs. His free hand fits itself over Jinki’s in his shirt, not stopping him, just following his movement. “Are my seduction attempts working yet?”

It takes Jinki a moment to really register what he just said; he was almost asleep. When he does understand, he blinks, frowns, lifts his head from Taemin’s shoulder. Seduction attempts. What the fuck. He is confused, first because he only counts Taemin playing with his fingers as one singular attempt, and second because--

“You’re doing it on purpose?” he asks. “What the fuck.” And here he was, struggling to keep his possible boner away from the one that’s trying to coax it out of him. Taemin turns a little more to give him a little smile, nip at the tip of his finger.

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “I thought you could tell.” He cocks a brow at Jinki; Jinki humphs. Excuse him for assuming his boyfriend isn’t a horny little brat. Taemin bites a little harder to get his attention again. “So is that a yes, you noticed?” he asks, squeezing Jinki’s other hand closer. When Jinki grumbles out a vaguely agreeing noise (because it’s not like he can lie), Taemin’s grin grows even wider. “I knew it,” he says smugly. “I knew you’d totally get off on me acting all young and shit.” He looks so damn proud of himself. Jinki grimaces, poking Taemin’s front tooth since Taemin isn’t going to give him his hand back anytime soon.

“Okay, one,” he says, “Don’t say that, it’s creepy.” Makes Jinki sound like some old perv. “Two, you’re not _acting_ young, you _are_ young. And three, I’m not getting off on _that_ , I’m getting off because you’re _seducing_ me on _purpose._ ” Acting all cute and shit like he knows Jinki’s weaknesses or whatever. Jinki is grumpy about it.

“And it’s working,” Taemin grins. Jinki huffs. Of course it is. That’s why he’s grumpy. He takes his finger out of Taemin’s mouth and cups his chin instead, trying his best to look stern as he leans forward and presses their mouths together. He knows that he’s going to give in to the softness of Taemin’s mouth after a minute or two anyway. He’ll just pretend to be extra pissy for as long as he can to make Taemin laugh. Almost immediately, though, Taemin’s mouth curls into a frown and he pulls away. “Dude, don’t,” he says. “Your fingers are like, covered in spit.”

“It’s your spit,” Jinki says, cocking a brow. He’s well aware of the fact. Taemin wipes his chin on his sleeve anyway with a pout. Jinki snorts, rolls his eyes, and slides his spitty fingers through Taemin’s hair to cup the back of his head instead, just for the way he whines for a few seconds before sighing into the kiss.

From there, it’s simple; not quite routine yet, but easy enough for Jinki to get into the rhythm. He pulls Taemin’s hips closer for the first time that night as Taemin lifts one hand up to tangle in his hair. Taemin’s mouth is soft, warm, pliable; he follows Jinki’s lead with slow breaths puffed against his upper lip and quiet gasps into his mouth. When the way Taemin is shifting closer and pressing between his legs starts to really wake up Jinki’s dick, he slips both of his hands into Taemin’s pajama shirt to feel up his stomach, his chest, poking one nipple just to make him jump.

Taemin makes a noise against his mouth when Jinki works slowly to unbutton the bottom of his shirt, then pulls away entirely when he rubs his thumbs over the waistband of his sweats. He turns back to face the tv again but leans his head back on Jinki’s shoulder, eyes shut, mouth parted in his deep, slow breaths. Jinki lets him hold onto his wrists as he slips his fingers under Taemin’s sweats and boxers, lets him decide if he wants Jinki to go further or not tonight.

Neither of them have done much before; in all honesty, Jinki is probably less experienced than Taemin is when it comes to sex things. Still, he feels a sort of obligation, as the older one, to take control and make sure things stay comfortable. Taemin hadn’t protested Jinki’s authority the few other times they’d gotten intimate and he’s not now, either. He lets Jinki lead this and Jinki admittedly feels a surge of confidence come with the trust he’s been given. He presses kisses to Taemin’s neck, latches on and sucks a mark there for later before he slips one hand fully under Taemin’s clothes.

Taemin is half hard the first time he ever lets Jinki touch his cock. Jinki wishes he could say he knows exactly what to do to have him squirm, but all he has to go on are memories of how Taemin has jerked himself off in his presence before. Almost all of those times were covered, either by the blankets in the morning or by darkness at night. The one time that _wasn’t_ dark was the time Jinki was too busy pressing him against the wall and kissing him breathless to look. He takes his hand out of Taemin’s sweats to spit into his palm--smirking slightly at the soft whine that falls from Taemin’s lips--before he slips it back under. He’ll just do what he usually does for himself.

Taemin is silent when Jinki first grips his shaft, but when Jinki circles just under the head and rubs his finger over the slit he gasps softly. Jinki manages to get him fully hard quickly, using the precome that leaks from his tip as extra lube to help the slow slide of his fist. Taemin digs his nails into Jinki’s wrists with a hiss when he slips his other hand under to cup his balls, squeeze lightly and massage them with his thumb. He nudges at Jinki’s head and makes Jinki lift up so he can lean into his neck instead. His hips start rolling up, lifting off of the ground and thrusting into Jinki’s hand as he pants against his skin.

Jinki is pretty damn proud of himself. Despite his whole lack of verbal communication thing, he’s doing well to have Taemin so wound up like this. He’ll frown at himself for getting uncharacteristically silent during sex things later. Right now, he trusts that Taemin will say something if he wants Jinki to stop this handjob, or at least that he’ll be able to pick up on any change of attitude himself.

Almost as soon as he thinks it, as if on cue, Taemin sucks in a sharp breath and squeezes his wrists.

“Jinki, fuck, wait,” he whispers, tugging lightly on both. Jinki takes his hands away and places them on Taemin’s hips instead. He hums curiously; Taemin shudders and turns to their mouths together again. Jinki feels himself smirking against Taemin’s lips, amused. He wasn’t aware that he had to stop a handjob just to make out more. After a few rushed moments of Taemin gripping his collar and still trying to thrust his hips up against nothing, Taemin pulls away again with harsh breaths. “Okay, wait,” he repeats, and then swallows. Jinki cocks a brow.

“I’m waiting,” he says, tapping his fingers on Taemin’s hips to demonstrate. Taemin breathes out a slow, deep breath, wiggles away from Jinki’s hands, wobbles to his knees.

“I don’t,” he says, and turns to take Jinki’s wrists. “Can we… bedroom?” he asks, standing and trying to tug Jinki up. “I don’t want… my first time to be. On the floor.”

“Oh,” Jinki says, and snorts as he stands up also. That makes sense. He doesn’t exactly want his first time to end in rug burns either. He’s halfway through straightening his shirt when the other part of that sentence hits him. “Wait,” he says slowly, stopping so Taemin jerks a little where he couldn’t walk any further. “Your first… you wanna…?” He didn’t realize that was what they were going for here. He thought they were just going to go from jerking themselves off to jerking each other off. The next logical step. Taemin glances back at him, mussed bangs falling into his eyes.

“Fuck, bang, sleep together, engage in sexual intercourse,” he says quickly, waving his free hand carelessly in the air. “Yeah. That’s the whole point of seduction?” Jinki swallows. Well, yeah, but. He hesitates. “Do you not want to?” Taemin asks, his grip loosening on Jinki’s hand a little bit in his own hesitance.

Taemin’s cheeks look so soft when they’re filled in with the flush of arousal. Soft and round under big, dark eyes, over red, bitten lips. His breath is still short, chest rising and falling under his open shirt, skin tinged a slowly fading pink halfway to his collarbones. His sweats ride low enough on his hips that his erection is pushing up the material just below the hem. Jinki takes in his whole appearance slowly. Of course he wants to fuck Taemin, of course he’s ready; he just wasn’t aware that Taemin was yet. The more he looks at his boyfriend though, the more he has to admit that he must be.

They’ve talked about sex before, like, just in general, and Jinki knows that he understands how it works and what it affects and all of the complexities that it can bring up. Jinki didn’t exactly start figuring all of that shit out until around a year ago, but he does know that there are people even younger than Taemin that already know. The only reason he’s so confused by this is because his other friends have been trying to explain Taemin’s sexual knowledge to him without even knowing more than his age. But Taemin is an adult; he knows what he’s doing. Obviously he wants this, obviously he thought it through if he had a plan to seduce Jinki and everything.

It’s the thought of Taemin wanting his dick that turns into a thought of Taemin _begging_ for his dick, and that’s the thought that makes Jinki shake off most of his hesitancies and start walking forward again.

“I mean, if you’re sure you want to,” he says. Just to make sure. Taemin rolls his eyes and continues his walk to the bedroom with Jinki in tow. He doesn’t say anything in reply to that. Jinki tries to frown, and also to keep his eyes from travelling down to look at the jut of Taemin’s hip where his sweats are slipping down. He needs to focus on being, like, responsible and shit. He stares instead at the exposed skin of Taemin’s shoulder because at least that’s only kind of distracting instead of extremely distracting. “You are sure, right?” he asks as Taemin pushes the bedroom door open. “Because sex is like. A big deal for some people. And you need to be sure, like, that you’re comfortable with it, and….”

He kind of trails off telling Taemin things he already knows as Taemin sits on the bed and tugs him on top. He’s smiling this amused little smirk at Jinki, the one that always creeps onto his lips when he thinks Jinki is getting too anal about things. Jinki huffs as Taemin reaches over to flick on the lamp next to the bed before he tugs Jinki down by his collar and presses their mouths together again. The way he sucks Jinki’s upper lip lightly brings a sigh from his chest, but he still puts his hand on Taemin’s stomach. It’s at least forty percent there just to feel him up, but mostly to push him away just slightly. His flushed cheeks are so… pretty.

“And,” Jinki says, swallowing thickly to try to catch his breath. “Something about. Your age, like, you’re not--”

“Jinki,” Taemin says, falling to his back and making Jinki follow with the hand in his collar. His open shirt falls halfway off of one shoulder to expose half of his chest. “If you’re nervous we can just go back to jerking ourselves off.”

“I’m not--” Jinki pauses mid denial. “Okay, a little, yeah, but--you’re? Not? Nervous?” He winces when Taemin cocks a brow at the questions in his tone. “I mean,” he says. He means, like. Fuck. He can’t be the only one having doubts over what Taemin is feeling. Like, how is Taemin supposed to know his own feelings if Jinki can never even figure himself out half of the time? Is he just supposed to _trust_ Taemin to say what he means?

He blinks. Oh. Wait. Yeah, that’s exactly what he’s supposed to do. Taemin brings his hand up to cover a smile, a soft laugh sighing through his fingers as he pushes his hair out of his face. Then he slips his hand down and under Jinki’s tshirt, lifting it up just enough to spread his palm over his stomach.

“Look,” he says. “You wanna do the thing where a dick goes into a butt, right?” he asks. Jinki struggles for a moment, then nods.

“Yeah,” he says. He can’t lie. Taemin tilts his head lazily to the side.

“Well, so do I,” he says. Like it’s that simple. Jinki puffs up his lips. He thinks maybe Taemin might be right and he’s just overcomplicating things. If he wants this to happen he needs to stop making it not happen. Taemin’s boner is gonna go away before he even gets to see it. Taemin takes action for him, tugging him down by his collar again and pressing their mouths together. Jinki lets himself relax into it, lets Taemin tug him down by the hips so they’re pressed together.

“We can stop if you want to,” Jinki mumbles against his lips. Just to help himself feel better. Taemin hums in reply and rubs his hips up against Jinki’s. Jinki was right. His boner is barely a semi now. He lowers himself down to his forearms so he can grind back, so he can maybe feel the way Taemin hardens again underneath him.

“Finally,” Taemin sighs. “Take five years.....” He trails off as he trails kisses along Jinki’s jawline. Jinki humphs and wiggles his hand to find Taemin’s dick under his sweats. He’ll just have to accelerate things then, to make up for all of the time he wasted making sure this was what they were doing. A soft gasp puffs against his cheek, Taemin’s hand sliding up around his neck and his hips pushing up against Jinki’s hand.

It takes another few years, by Taemin’s counting, for Jinki to relax enough and really get into the feel of things. By the time he has, he’s also sucked several hickeys into Taemin’s collarbones, just low enough for most of Taemin’s shirts to cover. A small part of him hopes that tomorrow Taemin wears one of the shirts that _won’t_ cover them. Taemin is gasping out soft breaths, running his fingers through Jinki’s hair as he grinds up into the hand Jinki has wiggled into his sweats. He’s fully hard again and leaking precome onto Jinki’s fingers, which Jinki has to restrain himself from lifting up to taste. He doesn’t want the smug little grin Taemin would give him for that.

Each downward stroke has Taemin’s chest rising up in a quick breath. His skin is flushed pink well down almost to his stomach and Jinki is just starting to think of what that would look like if he were fucking Taemin instead, if each sharp intake of breath was because of his dick and not his hand. He takes his hand from Taemin’s pants before he gets too into the thought--he’s been known to squeeze things very tightly when aroused--and swallows Taemin’s whine before it even leaves his sweet lips.

“Lube,” he mumbles, lifting off of Taemin’s mouth to fumble in his bedside drawer where he keeps his stuff. Taemin pants hotly against his neck, but nods out agreements. Jinki still feels his hips trying to thrust up against nothing and grins to himself. If he ever isn’t completely floored by his need to get himself off, he’d totally try a little teasing to test just how far he can push Taemin’s impatience. He bets Taemin would roll and writhe just to fuck himself back on his cock if he stayed still inside of him long enough. Maybe next time.

As he struggles to tear off one condom from a line with one hand, Taemin moves his other hand down Jinki’s side and around to touch his butt and squeeze through his pajama bottoms.

“Mmm,” he hums, “I bet you’re really tight.”

“Yeah,” Jinki breathes distractedly. This condom is giving him more trouble than he thought. Once he lifts his other hand to yank it away from the others, he sits back on his heels with a triumphant laugh. Then he pauses, very aware of Taemin’s hand still on his butt. “Wait,” he says. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what?’” Taemin asks. “That’s a sexy thing to say. I know; I’ve read… things.” He looks away guiltily and doesn’t elaborate, but Jinki knows. Hs’s read bad anime fanfiction is what he’s read. Jinki skips over smirking about that, though, because that wasn’t really the problem.

“What does... the tightness of... _my_ ass have to do with anything?” he asks slowly. “It’s your ass that’s getting… you know.” He makes a vague thrusting motion with his hand. Taemin looks at him for a moment, then snorts and bursts into giggles, light, breathy laughter as he runs one hand through his hair.

“No it’s not, quit joking,” he grins once he’s stopped. Jinki feels himself smiling, but it’s more of a reactionary smile than any genuine humor.

“You’re not fucking me,” he says resting his hand on Taemin’s leg. No one is fucking him. Ever. He tried fingering himself once or twice and does not ever need or want to have that experience again.

“Well, you’re not fucking _me_ ,” Taemin says, lips fading into a frown. “What in the fuck made you think that that’s how this was going?”

“You--” Jinki pauses before he really starts. If he thinks about it, it really was just him assuming. But his assumptions had merit, damn it. “You’re, like,” he starts trying to back himself up before he looks like an asshole. “Like, younger, and more femme, and smaller, and like… you know.” He wiggles his hand to demonstrate the shit that Taemin should know. The whole young and pretty and innocent thing or whatever. That’s important. Taemin frowns at him and reaches up to poke his cheek.

“Stop trying to impose heteronormative restrictions on our homosexual relationship,” he says. Jinki blinks at him, then shakes his head. He never should have introduced him to Jonghyun. He’s right, but still. Jinki sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.

“You’re sure you don’t want to bottom?” he asks. Taemin rolls his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he says. “I don’t want anything like, entering my anus, you know?”

“Don’t say anus.”

“Anus.”

Taemin cocks a brow at Jinki’s frown; Jinki closes his eyes and sighs, long and loud. When he opens them again, Taemin’s lips are curved up at the edges like he’s proud of himself for that. It almost makes Jinki sigh again, and it also almost makes him smile back, but he resists both and pokes Taemin’s chest with the corner of the condom wrapper.

“If I’m not fucking you and you’re not fucking me, how are we supposed to do this then?” he asks. He knew they should’ve talked about this more. Taemin sighs, lays his head back against the pillows, puffs his lips up at the ceiling. After a moment, he props himself back up on his elbows and gives Jinki a little smirk.

“Wanna blow me?” he asks. He wiggles his eyebrows for effect and it makes a short breath of laughter leave Jinki’s chest. That’ll work, yeah. And Taemin can give him a handy or he can just jerk himself off after. They’ll figure it out.

“Sure,” he says, ripping open the condom. As he wiggles to nuzzle his face into the half-boner Taemin somehow still has under his sweats, he makes a mental note to invest in some flavored ones over the weekend. They’re gonna need them.


End file.
